


They Can Try To Imagine

by Valmouth



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Avatar the Last Airbender, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko is still beautiful, and Sokka thanks all the Gods and spirits that nobody else in the Fire Nation gets to see it except him. Slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Can Try To Imagine

Disclaimer: I own no rights to these characters, places or events taken from Avatar: The Last Airbender. I mean no offence by posting this and make no money from doing so.

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Nobody else gets to see this. He’s definite about that. Not the councillors, not the guards, not the servants- nobody else in the whole damn Fire Nation, nobody but him is _allowed_.

He watches Zuko above him, lips slightly parted. One side of his face is dark with sweat-damped scar tissue made darker by the flush of exertion.

Sokka isn’t thinking- can’t think with Zuko’s long cock in him- but he watches, bottom lip between his teeth, and he loves this position, loves watching Zuko work. The way he growls, teeth bared, eyes sparking. Golden irises edged out by black, lust-blown pupils. Thick strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead.

Sokka’s never been meek and mild. He is his own man. He is no one’s spouse, no one’s mistress. He takes his turn on top but this is the position he loves. Loves Zuko’s determination bleeding out in battering ram attacks deep inside himself, loves the heat, the way Zuko curls around him, over him. Loves that Zuko looks at him eye to eye.

Loves the contrast of his dark thigh on Zuko’s pale shoulder, made obvious because he takes his chance to spend his time in the sun, bronzing beneath it with the full knowledge that Zuko stays indoors for most of his day and so the difference is that much more noticeable. Knows that it makes Zuko’s nobles whisper, point, and think.

He wants them to think of it. Wants them to try to imagine it- the muscles in Zuko’s shoulders bunching, the flexing in his biceps shifting down to whipcord straining tendons in his forearms, in his wrists, the blanched skin between his splayed fingers against the white sheets and Sokka’s body.

More than that he wants them to picture this- Zuko, head thrown back, swollen lips red and parted and his famous, unmistakable face suddenly transformed. Mismatched. Both eyes glazed and lust-hungry, and on one side of his face, one cheek flushed and the long, sensitive lashes of one fragile eyelid casting shadows against one cheekbone. Dark hair sticking in clumps to Zuko’s forehead, his neck, his shoulders.

A great fistful of it caught in Sokka’s fist and Sokka writhes and reaches up to viciously yank Zuko’s head back further, just as Zuko thrusts and arches and spirits, spirits, spirits, Zuko howls and crashes forward on the downstroke, long neck bared and so vulnerable.

And so Sokka lets go of the hair in his fist and runs his thumb over the hammering rush of Zuko’s pulse, just over the vein in his neck, presses hard and feels the staccato of Zuko’s hips fumble and speed up.

It’s changed the angle. Zuko’s not hitting his sweet spot, but he’s nudging it near enough and the almost-not-there pleasure is preferable. Sokka doesn’t need that pleasure. He’s got enough spread out before him.

He drags a fingernail over a nipple and feels Zuko’s arms tremble where they’d holding up his knees. He grins, watches Zuko drop his head and watch him, watches Zuko’s glazed eyes blink and focus, watches while the full weight of that determination, fire, passion zeroes in on him and there it is.

Sokka holds his breath.

Beautiful, he thinks, before Zuko twists his hips and starts to really take them both apart from the inside out.


End file.
